


Clock-Making and Bird-Collecting

by The Terror of My Ways (sealandreich)



Series: Other Things Become Important [3]
Category: Dark (TV 2017)
Genre: Charlotte as a youngster, Dead birds are a recurring theme, Drabble, Flash Fiction, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sealandreich/pseuds/The%20Terror%20of%20My%20Ways
Summary: Drabbles, flash fiction, vignettes—call it what you will—about two of my favorite characters, Charlotte and H.G. Tannhaus.
Relationships: Charlotte Doppler & H.G. Tannhaus
Series: Other Things Become Important [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952821
Comments: 14
Kudos: 15
Collections: Doppler-Tannhaus Collection





	1. “Taxidermy”

**Author's Note:**

> This work can be read on its own. It is not required to read “My Place Is Here With You,” though it is recommended. 
> 
> “‘A Journey Through Time’ Is Not a Bedtime Story” is basically another one of these chapters that was long enough to publish on its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a drabble, exactly 100 words! I’m new to writing things this short, but I’m having fun so far.
> 
> This takes place in mid to late November 1986.

“Christ alive, what are you doing?” said HG.

“Taxidermy!” said Charlotte. “I don’t really know how to do it but I’ve gotta start somewhere.”

She’d tried to skin three dead birds with one of their kitchen knives. She wasn’t successful: the bloody, mangled birds mostly still had feathers and skin attached. Charlotte was bleeding too, from several small nicks on her hands.

HG attempted not to panic. He thought about the horrifying possibility of these dead birds being preserved forever and ever.

“Okay, Charlotte, I’ll revoke the ‘no dead animals in the freezer’ rule. Just please, never do this again.”


	2. A Curious Child and a Fascinating Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a double drabble! Charlotte is a little kid in this one, around age six or seven.

HG was working on the apparatus when he noticed Charlotte had wandered into the clock shop and was staring at the machine, fascinated by it. He had tried to be secretive about it, but at least she hadn’t seen him experiment with that strange little device he found in 1953.

HG began to fold the apparatus back into its case, but Charlotte dashed over and grabbed his arms to stop him.

“No, don’t put it up. What is that? What does it do? Tell me, tell me,” Charlotte demanded.

HG sighed. “It doesn’t do anything.”

“What? Why?” said Charlotte, looking disappointed in him.

“Because I haven’t finished building it yet,” he said.

“Why?”

HG smiled. He knew where this was going. “Because it takes a long time to build.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s very complex.”

“Why?”

“Because the person that asked me to build this machine wanted it made this way.”

“Why?”

“Here, I’ll show you the blueprint,” he said, handing it to her.

Charlotte grabbed it out of his hands. Several times she looked back and forth between the blueprint and the machine. Finally, she gave up, handing the blueprint back.  


“I don’t think you’re building it right,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m assuming that HG is running the clock shop out of his house, or maybe he and Charlotte live above the shop. This is based off of this line HG says, among other things: “In the night, when it happened, I woke up. There was a noise downstairs in the shop.” That’s why Charlotte can just wander into the clock shop.


	3. Discovering Dead Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This occurs in early November 1986.

“Charlotte?” said H.G. Tannhaus, knocking on the door to her room. “Why are there dead animals in the freezer?”

Charlotte opened the door and said in her matter-of-fact manner, “Because I put them there.”

“And why did you put them there?” he said. 

“Well I don’t want their bodies to decompose yet,” said Charlotte, as if it was entirely normal to put dead birds in a freezer. “I’d rather not smell like carrion. I draw them. And it’s only dead birds, not dead animals in general.”

“Well, you can’t keep those dead birds in the freezer,” he said.

“Why not?”   


“You can’t just put dead animals in the freezer.” 

“Well, you’ve never told me that I couldn’t,” said Charlotte.

“I never expected that I’d have to tell you not to put dead animals in the freezer,” HG responded.

“You’re the one that says I need to find a new hobby. So this is my new hobby.”

HG barely had any idea what the young people were up to these days, but he was fairly sure that collecting dead birds was not a normal activity among the youth. 

“Okay, well, it’s great that you’ve found a hobby. But you’re still not allowed to put dead birds or any other dead animals in the freezer, so you either need to find a different hobby or figure out some way to engage in this ‘hobby’ of yours without putting dead animals in the freezer.”

Charlotte said, “You think you can stop me?” 

“Yes,” said HG, now a bit uncertain.

Great. Was Charlotte going through a rebellious phase and looking for an excuse to fight him? Or did she actually care about dead birds that much? And should he be concerned about this? 


	4. Stranger and Psychopomp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in November 1986. Jonas (the Stranger) first goes to the clock shop on Friday the 7th and leaves on Wednesday the 12th. The first part of this takes place on Saturday the 8th or Sunday the 9th. The second part of this takes place on the night of Wednesday the 12th.

It was around 11:30 when Charlotte heard her grandfather talking with someone downstairs. The other voice was one Charlotte did not recognize. She went down the stairs, then peered into the room to see who her grandfather was talking to. In that second, she saw a stranger: brown hair, dark coat, looked scruffy. She ducked back into the foyer, ready to eavesdrop, hoping the stranger hadn’t seen her. 

She couldn’t hear them too well. She took another look. This time the stranger was looking in her direction. He smiled and waved. Charlotte quickly ducked away, out of sight, but she wasn’t quick enough. Her grandfather called her over to properly introduce herself to this stranger.

Several days later, she had a dream. She was younger in this dream, about a decade younger she guessed. Someone was holding her—who? Charlotte leaned back in the arms of the person holding her to look at their face. Interesting, it was that fan of “A Journey Through Time,” Jonas. He looked benevolent, so Charlotte didn’t feel alarmed. 

Two other things stood out to Charlotte: her surroundings were barren and gray, and she felt cold and numb. Jonas was carrying her somewhere. Was she dead? It dawned on her: Jonas was no stranger. He was a psychopomp carrying her through the otherworld, this desolate land devoid of all warmth, color, and life. Charlotte was so cold it hurt. Jonas the psychopomp held her close to him, and he was warm, yet it seemed like it was impossible for Charlotte to retain any warmth. When had she lost sensation in her limbs—seconds ago, minutes ago, hours ago? Charlotte closed her eyes and hoped for an end to this bitter, bitter cold.

Eventually Jonas set her down and knelt to her level. “Farewell,” he said. “Farewell.” Then he was gone, as if he’d never been there. 

Charlotte turned and her grandfather was there. He took his coat off and put it around her; it was like being wrapped up in a large blanket. Slowly, the biting coldness faded away and Charlotte regained sensation in her limbs. Her surroundings had changed; now there was warmth, color, and life. She was back from the brink of death. Jonas, stranger and psychopomp, had brought her back from the dead.

When Charlotte awoke, she was sleepy as ever, not at all ready to get up. The boy she’d seen yesterday, who had asked her for the date and year, he’d gotten the idea of bringing people back from the dead into her head. It was definitely his fault that she had that dream, so Charlotte also blamed him for causing her to be so very tired this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte and Jonas are related to each other, and I spent too much time trying to determine what they would be to each other. Through Hannah, they are grandniece and great-uncle. They’re also 5th cousins through Hannah too. Through Silja and Bartosz, they are 1st cousins 3 times removed. I have decided against going even further, but they share other common ancestors: Egon, Doris, Claudia, Bernd, and Regina. (Have I missed any?) Assuming that Magnus and Franziska married, Jonas would be their nephew (through Magnus) and Charlotte would be their niece (through Franziska).


	5. Tick, Tick, Tick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the most part these can stand alone, but in this case, while it will still make sense on its own, I highly recommend reading “My Place Is Here With You,” which is the first fanfic in this series. This takes place several days after “My Place Is Here With You.”

Charlotte sat by the caves and thought about that goddamn pocket watch. Tick, tick, tick—it was a reminder of everything she didn’t know. Tick, tick, tick—a reminder of everything she’d never know. Why? That was the real question. She began tossing the pocket watch in the air, catching it each time.

Why did her parents abandon her? Why was she left in the care of a stranger? Leaving her with Grandpapa Tannhaus was the best decision her parents could have made, the best decision they did make, but why? How could they? Charlotte threw the pocket watch against the cave opening. Why did she care about it much? Her parents must have been horrible people. If they ever tried to find her, what would she do? Charlotte picked the pocket watch up and threw it again, harder, at the cave wall.

She’d tell her parents she hated them. She’d tell them that they could rot in hell. It was their loss, not hers. Did they regret their decision? Charlotte hoped they regretted it. She hoped her parents were suffering now, suffering all the consequences, suffering because of what they’d done. She hoped they knew they had wronged her. Again she grabbed the pocket watch off the ground, but this time, she stared into the cave.

Tick, tick, tick. But had her parents wronged her? They gave her away, but they gave her away to H.G. Tannhaus. What would’ve happened to him if his family had still died, but Charlotte was never given to him? Tick, tick, tick. Would he waste away, no longer having the will to live, wishing he had died with his family? What would her own life look like? Tick, tick, tick. Would her parents have raised her, would they have given her to someone else, would they simply have left her for dead? It would be a miserable existence, being raised by people that never wanted her, never loved her—tick, tick, tick—cold and heartless people that didn’t care for their own child’s wellbeing.

Tick, tick, tick. Why did her parents give her this pocket watch, this goddamn pocket watch? Tick, tick, tick. Did they want her to wonder about her parents? Did they hope Charlotte would wish she knew them? Tick, tick, tick. Did they hope she would want to find them? Tick, tick, tick. Did they want her to know, every second, that she’d never know the truth? Tick, tick, tick. They wanted her to dwell on this every second, didn’t they? They did, they must! Tick, tick, tick. They wanted her to suffer too—but this was her parents’ loss, not hers. It was their loss and their loss alone.

Tick, tick—

Charlotte hurled the pocket watch into the cave.

She did not need her parents. She did not need to think about them. Her parents did not deserve to be thought of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Charlotte’s pocket watch would most likely be a key-wound mechanical pocket watch, having been created around the turn of the 19th century.


	6. By the Caves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place later in the day after “Tick, Tick, Tick.”

HG was worried about Charlotte and where her thoughts might turn if he let her brood alone as she did for so long. He found his melancholic granddaughter sitting by the caves. Already this was a bad sign; this wasn’t the place Charlotte usually went to brood.

“Charlotte?” he called.   
  
She looked up, expressionless. It looked like she might’ve been crying, but HG knew better than to mention that. She looked tired, tired of life and all the pain it brought.

Finally, she said, “I threw the watch into the cave.”

“What?” said HG, failing to grasp the relevance of her statement. This was one of the few situations in which timepieces were far, far away from his thoughts. 

“That pocket watch. I couldn’t stand it, and I threw it into the cave. I regret it now; I still can’t stand it but it was stupid thing to do.”

It hurt to see Charlotte like this, and it hurt HG to know that he’d hurt her like this.

Walking over to her, he said, “We can get it another day.” He forced himself to smile. “I repair watches for a living. Fixing it won’t be a problem.”

Charlotte only sighed.

“It’s getting late, kiddo,” said HG. This exchange had become something of a ritual for them. He extended his hand to help Charlotte to her feet. “Let’s head home.” 

Charlotte said nothing, as usual, and rejected his help. HG took his coat off and put it around Charlotte’s shoulders, as always. It was like being wrapped up in a hug according to her. The next part of this ritual of theirs was variable, but today as they began the walk home, Charlotte tightly clung to HG’s side.

Neither of them spoke. It was not necessary; they could talk later. But right now, this was one of the times it was better to say nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did they ever go back to get the watch? If the watch was left in the caves, that would explain why nobody realized that there were two versions of the same watch in 2019: the watch Noah gave to Elisabeth and the watch Charlotte was given as a child. Perhaps HG retrieved the watch and kept it for Charlotte in case she ever wanted it.


	7. Setting Things in Motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> November 8th, 1971.

Charlotte would have to do the talking. This would not be easy. She carefully handed the infant in her arms—herself, the selfsame Charlotte—back to Elisabeth, daughter and mother in one. She had to think for a second, but soon Charlotte remembered where HG kept the spare key.

They stepped into the clock shop. Charlotte tried not to get too emotional, but how could she not? After so many years, she was home once again. Home. Out of all the places she had lived—here with her grandfather, the house she and Peter shared, and the cave in a terrifying, nightmarish future—the Tannhaus house felt the most like home.

Oh God, what would she do when she saw her grandfather again for the first time in years? Already it would be difficult not to break down in tears, but Charlotte would have to deliver the devastating news that would change HG’s life forever.

She looked at her infant self in Elisabeth’s arms. She had to do this for herself. Charlotte had no doubt that being raised by HG in the ’70s and ’80s would be much better than being raised by Noah and Elisabeth in the hellscape once known as Winden. She reminded herself that they were killers, even if they had their reasons. At the very least, Charlotte did not trust the two of them to raise a child.

HG would be the loving guardian she had grown up with. And if she didn’t give her infant self to HG, well, Charlotte didn’t want to think about what would happen to HG. She could not change the fate awaiting Marek, Sonja, and the other Charlotte. Giving her infant self to HG was the best thing she could do in this situation. Elisabeth understood. For either one of them to exist, this was a sacrifice that had to be made.

HG came down the stairs, having heard noise coming from the clock shop. Charlotte wished she could throw her arms around him and cry, just cry her eyes out like a small child again. But HG did not know her yet. If only Charlotte could make this easier on herself and her grandfather, she would. But there was nothing she could do but set things in motion.

Charlotte tried not to get choked up. Surely she was to some degree, and surely she was teary-eyed, but she had to be strong. Elisabeth gave her a look of encouragement, trying to mask her own pain.

As she remembered the conversation she had with HG as a teenager, a conversation that this younger version of herself would have in sixteen years, a thought came into Charlotte’s mind. She should find the body of the other Charlotte. HG had told her years ago that the body of his granddaughter was never found. The poor child deserved better. She would find the other Charlotte’s body, she would, and she would give the infant a proper burial. Even if Charlotte and Elisabeth were the only ones who knew, it was something. That poor child deserved to be more than a lost, forgotten victim—a lost and forgotten sacrifice—in this cruel game.

Elisabeth let her hold the infant—herself, her very self—one last time. 

“Everything will be taken from you this night,” Charlotte said. She kissed the infant’s forehead and whispered, “Forgive me.” It was for the best. Things would be better this way. Charlotte had to remain strong. She forced herself to look at HG and saw the pain and confusion in his eyes. 

“And at the same time, everything will be given to you,” Charlotte said, putting her infant self in her grandfather’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I might’ve cried when writing this.

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 


End file.
